


It's Me

by JokerzTriKz



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, General fiction, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3076853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokerzTriKz/pseuds/JokerzTriKz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was left alone, murdered and forgotten in a place I only new as fun. Now it was my prison to watch as my murderer continued his games. This time I would start the game. I would be the controller, and he was in turn my playing piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely satisfied with how the ending turned out. But after hearing some theories on the game I grew really intrigued by FNaF and wrote this in a five hour time period. So there will be furious editing later. Look for it. For now, I am sorry if it sucks and you have to read it ^-^''' Tis a prototype.  
> But I will be looking for art of Marionette for the preview picture. If you want yours featured just contact me and it will be. Don't worry a bit, credit will be given in bold letters ^u^  
> I am stopping my Google surfing of pictures officially.

    “Stay here dear, I’ll be back in just a second. Then we can go inside and have some sweeties.” Said the woman above me, the one I knew as my mom. With a cigaret in hand, and phone in the other, I watched her walk away to her car to get something or do something. Of which, I didn’t know. At the time, I was unconditionally obedient to my mother. I didn’t doubt her. I believed she would return. After she left, I waited, peeking in excitedly through the window to see other kids getting cake from the big Freddy bear. Soon I knew, I would get cake too.

    Though, as I waited, my feet grew tired, and I sat down. She would be back soon. More minutes passed and the smallest spotting of doubt began to grow. She was coming back right? I told myself that she would most definitely come back, she just had stuff to do. I couldn’t help but get up after two hours anyway and go to see what my mother was up to. But after turning the corner, her car wasn’t there. It was then that I panicked. For ten minutes I cried for my mom, screaming for her before I came back to my spot by the door. I didn’t know what to do. Had she really gone? Maybe she just forgot something at home again? It wasn’t the first time she had done this but it was by far the longest she had been away. It scared me.

    Maybe it was just because it was my birthday? Could it be that? Was she getting a present maybe? Maybe it was a new jack in the box since my own had broken. It didn’t stop my tears, I was after all a child. I turned to look inside the diner again, thinking once more about getting my own cake from the Freddy bear.

    And then I heard the car. In a new excitement I turned around. 

    “Mom!” I said, the sound of the car door after it stopped making me happy. It was not the butterflies of happiness i felt in my stomach when I turned around. I saw a purple car and a man who all I saw of was his purple shirt and his lifeless eyes which shone with madness. I felt instead pain, repeated and erratic. Over and over it repeated until finally it stopped and the man knelt in front of me, pulling my face to look at his. Cold and lifeless, his eyes dilated. He was crazed.

    I knew that I was screaming, crying in pain. His eyes remained cold. There he left me, crying continuously for my mother, the mix of warmth from my tears and the coldness of it drying. And then I was numb. I saw my mother. She was carrying a music box in her hand with a look of excitement before she met my eyes. 

    In my head I could hear the tune of the music box. It was the one she had since she herself was little and used to play every night for him. It had been passed down. I couldn’t feel anything then. She was too far away from me but I wanted her to hug me. But I felt cold now. I felt hate. I couldn’t reach mom. It was because of that man.

    And I fell asleep.

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    Except I didn’t.

    I look back on it now, and all I see is red. Not of my blood, or even my rage which survived with my soul, but simply for what I want to see on my hands when I kill the bastard in the security room. At points I am calm, I don’t know why. For some reason, there is a single sound that reminds me of pleasant days. Maybe it is the monotonous yet calming tone of the music box that the purple man plays. I hate him.

    Sometimes, when he forgets about it, my rage awakens and my plans are reborn. I want to see him dead. I think he knows it too.

    But one night, I saw him. He used another suit, killed other children. I saw their remorse, their fear, their anger. They wanted what I did. They wanted revenge. That very night, when no one else was looking, I made sure that with their bodies harshly tucked away in the suits their souls were there with them. There were never words. They awoke with my own desires, their own lust for revenge. For justice. 

    It became a game. We knew where he was. We knew he was the guard who deceived us. That was where we would go. 

    The new suits were lifeless. They followed orders and they helped us all the more. They would help us, be it murder the man and repay him for his crime or put him where he could suffer. That was all that mattered. Until they stopped working right. They didn’t register faces like they were supposed to and what systems they were given were damaged. I knew who it was. 

    He would be dead soon enough.

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    .

    The first man we attacked was the wrong man. He was the security guard but our own hate blinded his face from our eyes. The toys were gone. Thought useless for their brokenness. A new man was there but the others were too far blind.

    My material was gone, my body dismantled all the same. But my own soul still burned. It lit the place on its own and with some luck guided the rest to do right. 

    The night we finally got him, they made a mistake. It bound him to the building like ourselves. There was only a bit of good news to top it. The pizza place was closing down, the last security guard safely away and “fired.” And while of course the man was stuck there, in the phone box; 

    We were now the ones tormenting him.

    I was the one tormenting him.

A present I was more than willing to accept on my birthday...or my death day.


End file.
